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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29529903">eric.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/honkinwat/pseuds/honkinwat'>honkinwat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lush. [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alexis | Quackity Needs a Hug, Cannibalism, Capslock, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Past Sexual Abuse, Short, jschlatt is a bad person, the funeral - Freeform, wow bet u werent expecting that one</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:55:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>504</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29529903</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/honkinwat/pseuds/honkinwat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>he's tired of the game, why cant schlatt see that?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lush. [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2169420</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>eric.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>quackity was getting tired of this game. when he was out with schlatt, he could cling to him and get dotted on in return. he felt like maybe schlatt genuinely enjoyed his presence, like he was wanted. but he knows how this works. he is told to stay close and personal while in public, but as soon as the white house door shuts behind them he’s shoved off and abandoned.</p>
<p>sometimes he’s used for more. he’ll be called into the president’s office long after business hours. he’ll ignore the taste of alcohol and tobacco on schlatt’s tongue as he’s kissed, undressed, controlled. sometimes it switch, and he would have schlatt on his knees in front of him. it was then, when he had a good view of the other’s horns disappearing into his now messy curls, that he felt forgiveness bubble in his chest. </p>
<p>of course, he’s never stayed long. he was told to clean up their mess as schlatt retreated to his sleeping quarters before going to his own. he would curl up in bed, heart aching for the care and warmth of someone else. </p>
<p>he never gets it. </p>
<p>after a few months, he had to start fishing for even the smallest glance in his direction, schlatt too caught up in his work to give him attention. their hookups became few to none, the hands that once held his hips so delicately turning violent and demeaning. </p>
<p>he couldn’t hold up the act for much longer if he was submitted to this. </p>
<p>he can’t remember when he first fell for schlatt. somewhere between their first date and the first time the ram-hybrid’s fist connected with his jaw. or maybe it was after that, when schlatt would cup his face oh so gently while whispering apologizes, a piece of alcohol soaking gauze pressing against quackity’s busted lip. he couldn’t help but lean into the touch, even if he knew the truth. it was all an act, guilt tactic to keep him scared but docile. schlatt would never regret hitting him. </p>
<p>but he still felt his face heat up and his heartbeat pick up when he was kissed in front of others. he wondered how long they would play this game. he wondered how long it would take before he broke. </p>
<p>the answer was too soon. </p>
<p>schlatt’s death left him feeling empty, a shell of himself walking aimlessly around the now empty white house. he wanted - no, needed - schlatt in his life to feel alive. </p>
<p>he attended the funeral, and he stared down at his dead lover’s heart that he had stolen from the casket. the blood rushing in his ears blocked out the sound of everyone whooping and hollering. </p>
<p>he didn’t know what came over him, but the first bite into the flesh turned to two, and three, and more until nothing was left but the cold blood stuck between his fingers. he quickly licked that off too. </p>
<p>he laughed softly, pupils dilated and nearly covering the color of his eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>schlatt was his. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>forever.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and I dislike this one even more. this is on my list of rewrites for rn.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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